


Abode

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet: 900 [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. Thank goodness for autopilot?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another mini fic. Spoilers for _Skynet_.
> 
> Because in this verse, it’s not whether you are or aren’t a deviant.
> 
> It’s about how much of a deviant you are.

Emilia had some funny ideas over what constituted ‘teamwork building exercises’. They ranged from mundane and humanly-imperfect to wildly inventive and android-centric. But when a trust fall nearly went so horribly wrong, Noah knew within a second she would blame no one but herself for Vern’s impulsive, near-deadly reaction.

In the moment, it didn’t make the situation any less terrifying.

——-

“Vernon, _stop_.”

The knee driven in between his wings didn’t ease off. The sharp, upturned curve of the combat knife pressed laterally beneath his jaw, from cheek to chin, stayed where it had landed. Face shoved against the rough concrete, pinned there by a palm on the back of his skull, Noah froze.

Only his optics swiveled around, to look at the furious green eyes looming over his shoulder.

“He tried to hurt you,” Vernon said back to Emilia, not easing up on any part of Noah, in fact, digging his knee in harder, if that was possible. “Tried to kill you. Can't let him.”

“You don’t know what happened. You just got here.”

Tempting as it was to try and argue his own defense, Noah refrained. The blade seemed to tilt and dig in a few centimeters deeper, splitting the plastic beneath. Thirium, going cold the instant it was exposed to the air, beaded into thin lines on both sides of the metal edge.

Hands half-stuck under his own torso, he could no more reach up and push it away than he could wriggle out of this death grip.

Footsteps crunched their way across the concrete toward them, closely followed by another winged shadow. “It’s a misunderstanding, please. You don’t have to hurt him.”

Seemingly considering the words, Vernon looked back at her, making sure to keep the rest of his position kneeling exactly the way it was, knife still firmly positioned against Noah’s throat. “...Tell me, then. The misunderstanding - you let him push you?”

“It was the _idea_ , nothing malicious. Really, he’s done no harm.”

Some of his weight shifted off of Noah, seemingly ready to release him in a moment. Vernon looked back at him, brows furrowing, before back to Emilia, and the knife slowly, _very_ slowly retracted away. “You should have told me.”

There hadn’t exactly been a convenient time. Emilia had fallen backwards off the skyscraper’s edge - after a helpful push to get started. It had taken her approximately two minutes to right herself and fly back up to where they had haphazardly scuffled.

Noah was still a little surprised to be overpowered so quickly. He thought his hand-to-hand techniques were up to form. Tackling him, following a precise killshot of a dive, Vernon already had the knife to his neck before Noah registered he was pinned to the ground.

 _That_ was skillful.

And latently harrowing.

Scoffing, Emilia threaded her way by him to crouch at Noah’s side. “I told you we would both be here, at this time, today. I assumed you also knew what that meant.” Tugging a spare cloth free from inside her blazer, she offered it up. Her expression shuttered from affronted to apologetic. “Here, Noah. I’m sorry about this. He isn’t always such a brute.”

No?

Then why did Vernon carry a knife, as opposed to (or in addition to) a gun?

Gingerly, flexing carefully to determine there were no snapped cables or struts, Noah rose to his hands and knees. His hand shook upon taking the cloth, wiping the thirium away before pressing it to his new wound.

Submissively, he kept his eyes angled down, trying to ignore the fresh blue stain on his collar.

Only once the bleeding stopped did he dare look back.

Standing up, slightly off to the side, Vernon jammed his hands, with the knife, across the pockets of his jacket, not looking overly guilty for making such a slip either. “Sorry. Couldn't let anyone hurt her.”

Such a base, primal response. Whatever the taller variant possessed in battle prowess and determination, he seriously lacked in nuance and appreciation of higher thought. He was the killing machine CyberLife wanted in their back pocket.

Five months exposure to the real world hadn’t gentled it.

Huffing, Noah pulled his shaking wings in, half standing, half crawling back to the roof’s edge. Dabbing one final time at his neck, he set it aside.

He didn’t need to figure this out, here and now. He needed to get away, fast. There was no quicker way to do that than to fly.

The wind swallowed up Emilia’s voice as she yelled after him.

She might have been asking what was wrong.

——-

Smoking on the rooftop park was just a normal part of Gavin's routine by then, after coming home from work. After checking up on Colby, making sure the brat wasn't too helpless for a bit, he would head up to relax for ten minutes or something. Pick a bench and unwind.

What wasn't a normal fucking part of his routine, was when his android partner came and saw him, for some reason.

Watching the white, airborne spot slowly coming closer, taking shape, following the corridor of the street below, Gavin frowned at it, before taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Sure, the android came to his home before, but shit was fine right now.

The fuck was going on?

Swooping in, barely leaving himself enough buffer space on either side, Noah didn’t so much as land as set down between the trees. He stumbled into a one-kneed stop, hands flat on the short-cut grass, breathing hard and deep as if he had just run a marathon. His extended wings flapped twice of their own accord, as if to help him lift off again, before they stilled.

Thankfully there weren’t any other residents about the park this time in late afternoon. Most were having dinner, or suiting up to go eat out. That was all the better. It didn’t mean there were witnesses to this spectacle.

He wasn’t one for making melodramatic entrances like this. Something must actually be up.

“Uh… hey, Noah.” Gavin took a cautious step toward him, head tilted down to try and make out the android’s facial expression - to just what extent was something wrong? He wasn’t even trying to hold back his distraught behavior. “Fuck happened? You okay?”

The once-red LED stopped spinning in place. Anxious, heavy breaths dying down to soft, uncertain gasps, Noah’s wings flexed as if the joints had gone rusty, unable to fold in on themselves. Coughing, half-covering a whimper he couldn’t quite stifle, he reached up to feel the side of his throat.

His fingers came away blue.

“Oh, shit - hey, hey.” Tossing the cigarette away, Gavin knelt down without thinking, eyes roaming over the android’s neck to see just what the damage was. How the hell did that even happen - who hurt Noah? Whatever it was, the damage was a nice, clean slash at least four inches long. “Hey, let's - lemme get you inside, okay? Let's go to my apartment, dude. I'll check out whatever that is, we can talk later.”

At that, he half-expected a light switch moment to occur. Noah would drop whatever act this was, stand up without any assistance, reorient himself, declare it was all for show, something to do with a case. Because they always did, to some degree, and he wasn’t fulfilled on a daily basis if he didn’t crack one or two.

The bloody fingers began to quiver before they clenched into a fist. Blinking owlishly, Noah seemed to struggle to get back on his feet. One wing, then the other, jarringly folded up, furloughing like two ship sails lining up with his spine.

His eyes never left the ground.

——-

Colby darted past their ankles the moment the door was open. Whatever was happening, he clearly had some preconstructive visions that told him to get out while he still could.

Breathing calmer, hand firmly cupped to his neck, Noah’s wide, too-skittish, too-blue eyes followed him down the hall.

“Go hang out with Joey, traitor.” Gavin mumbled, shooting Noah a worried glance again. Jesus, just what the hell had happened to scare him so badly? Dude looked like he was actually afraid, for the first time in his life - it didn't sit well with him. “C'mon, get in. Lemme get a look at that gash.”

The former command, Noah abided by just fine, while the latter took some prying to get to. He stepped into the apartment, looking around as if he expected someone to jump out and attack. Once inside, he simply stood there. The ramrod-straight back was gone, in favor a slight slump, with his opposite arm wrapped around his torso.

There were grass shavings on the knees of his pants. That, in addition to the streaks of blue blood adorning his collar and right shoulder, made him look even more like the mess he was suddenly acting. The once-distinct forelock was gone, blending in with all of the other wind-whipped tufts of black hair sticking out every which way.

Whatever his partner had just flown away from, Gavin wouldn’t be surprised if a few feathers were broken or missing entirely.

Eventually, Noah let his hand be yanked away from the horizontal laceration. Dark blue thirium oozed through it to soak into his clothes. The edges of the cut were clean, not jagged. It wasn’t damage he had incurred trying to avoid the weapon.

Something bit him, so sure and certain of what it was doing it only needed to land once, and _press_.

“Jesus, fuck, dude. Who the hell did this to you?” Forgetting his earlier words of talking later, Gavin had to ask. The fact that Noah was so shaken, with such a wound, told him that some definite shit had gone down. Gently, he wiped a finger in the spilled thirium, wincing again as he studied it. “What happened?”

Blinking furiously, as he always tended to when new questions hit his ear, Noah’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again before he found a shadow of his voice. “Vuh… Ver-vernon.”

Clicking away like a computer doing its best to answer, with only a fraction of its processes available for thinking with.

Gavin frowned at the answer, trying to process the information all the same. ‘Course he knew the RK900s weren't as close as Hank's strays were, not half as buggy, but for the other android to - what, try and slit Noah's throat? - that was surprising.

“The fuck? Why? What even happened?”

Gaping and blinking again, Noah frowned. Sifting through all his muddled data had clearly been backlogged during whatever frantic escape he had staged. Now he was trying to quantify it and talk at the same time. “A mis-misunderSTANding-ing.” At that he broke off with a noticeable flinch. Too many syllables to cough up, apparently.

Belatedly, he flattened his hand back over the leaking wound. The shock in his expression began to melt, overtaken by growing disgust. He knew he must be making a mess by now.

“You don't try and slit someone's throat over a fuckin’ misunderstanding,” Gavin muttered, but dropped that line of questioning quickly. There was no use going down that rabbit hole, at least not now. “Okay, okay… you gotta let me know what I gotta do, okay? Or - should I call Connor?”

“No.” At that, Noah blinked a final time, reassuming another degree of his typical icy, indifferent glare. “So-some - gauze. Surgi-giCal t-tape.”

First aid basics. He knew it wasn’t as if Gavin had dermal patches and pouches of blue blood lying around.

“Okay, let's do this, I guess.” Wheeling around from him, not looking back to see if he was being followed or not, Gavin went to get said items from his bathroom. There had been enough times where he had to patch himself up that it warranted a first aid kit.

He found the requested box in short order.

But Noah didn’t follow. Presumably mindful of not bleeding over any more of Reed’s floor than he already had, he stayed rooted where he stood. “Thank y-you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it.” Getting the needed items out of the box, Gavin gestured him over, eyes narrowed at the wound again. “Let's get you fixed up, then. Fuckin’ slit throat…”

At least it wasn’t as bloody an affair as the construction site.

——-

Like a man possessed, or so the saying went.

Technically, Noah wasn’t a man. He was a very uncanny approximation of one. So was every other android in modern culture that ever semi-devianted from its program. Only insofar as the saying described what he had felt in flight was it appropriate. Androids weren’t made to autopilot, necessarily, but the protocols were nevertheless there. Because what was the sense of putting wings on a machine if it wasn’t without minimum route knowledge intended to keep it aloft?

Somewhere between landing in the rooftop park, and then emerging from the trance-like fog once inside Gavin Reed’s apartment, Noah got a grip on himself.

His partner was just winding the last fastening strap of gauze around when the stinging set in with a vengeance. Severed circuits underneath the splintered plastic began complaining like firecrackers, hissing and burning as they spluttered their complaints.

Muffled by the bandages, it sounded like a smothered fire. Noah cursed to cover it up, affecting a pained grimace as the bandage went tight, reaching up to grab at the covered wound. “ _Son_ of a - easy, please, Detective.”

“Agh, it won't stay on if I go fuckin’ gentle, dude.” Gavin's hands stopped, though, momentarily startled by the suddenness of his movements. “Jesus, well - welcome back, man. You went blank there, huh?”

Inside and out.

Venting a breath, in part to see that he could still cycle air as needed, Noah lowered his hand. “Yes, I was on autopilot.”

It wasn’t so much a joke as it was the truth. His higher functions went into a temporary lull, long enough for his body to get itself out of danger. RK900s were installed with a superior fight or flight subroutine. They weren’t prone to destructing under stress so much as they were made to get away from the source, and then shut down for recollection.

Which was what made #317 248 809 so baffling. How Nicholas could survive such peaks of stress over and over without destroying himself to escape it - there was something else helping him cope.

Good program siblings, for starters.

“Autopilot? Shit, that, uh… that doesn't sound good.” Standing back slightly, Gavin admired his handiwork with a scoff. “You really seemed freaked out, Noah. Like some type of attack, or somethin’.”

“To the uninitiated, it would look like…” Realizing after the fact he was actually sitting down, on a towel-covered armchair, and Gavin was standing over him, Noah gave up the explanation as unnecessary. Experimentally, he tried twisting and pivoting his head. The wraps held firm. “It doesn’t matter. And I’m grateful for your assistance.”

“Yeah, sure. You think you could explain a bit more, then?” Eyebrow raised, Gavin crossed his arms as he looked down at Noah. His foot tapped, betraying some of his nerves over the situation. “You said some ‘misunderstandin’?”

He did deserve that much for helping jerry-rig this fix. Impatient as he was to figure that mystery out, it would be better not to keep the man in suspense.

“Yes. With Vernon. Emilia and I were working on… trust exercises. He didn’t know. To him, it looked like I had just shoved her off a roof.” Pausing to let the incredulity set in, Noah scoffed. “He forgot for a moment she could fly perfectly well.”

Or so he told himself. He didn’t want to consider any other alternative, least of all the one that Vern was taking the chance while he had it. He had the kind of design that suggested he would kill someone as quick as look at them.

Another paradox of Nicholas, made into something just as bewildering in its own right.

“Fuckin’ hell. Dude sounds like a nightmare.” Gavin scoffed again, but didn't pry any further into the matter of just what exactly had gone down, instead taking up a different line of questioning. “And that was - enough, to get you on autopilot? Not sayin’ it wouldn't be, just…”

“Just, what?” Noah snipped. If one line of inquiry didn’t appeal, try the other in full or don’t try it at all. “Yes, Detective. The technical term is autopilot. In layman’s terms, I was scared. I possess enough intelligence to know when fear is the appropriate response to feel.”

And unlike Connor, he wasn’t a paragon of bluster and denial when it came to enduring the evolution of said feelings. He was simply quieter about it.

“Okay, I get that. I'm tryin’ to say that I haven't seen any other android shut down that way, really. Shit, I've spent enough time around Hank's strays to see what fear looks like, that just seemed a bit - over that, dude.” Hands going up in mock surrender, Gavin was clearly struggling with just what exactly he was trying to say.

Staring balefully up at him for a mere moment, Noah feigned a sigh and looked away. He wasn’t in the mood to humor the pursuit of keeping up with his dysfunctional partner’s hard-won admissions. “I was _scared_. You probably didn’t think I had it in me.”

“No, I ain't sayin’ that, I know you do.” Gavin glared at him for a moment, before looking away himself, trailing a bit away toward the couch. “Whatever. You looked like you had some sort of PTSD reaction, goin’ back to those other times. Enough officers have it, you recognise it after awhile.”

“And if that is indeed what it was, I know what I need to do: stay far away from Vern and all his favorite blades.” Indulging in some snarkiness felt good in its own right. Noah scoffed again, reaching up to rub at his eyebrow as if a headache were setting in. “It ought to be easy to accomplish.”

But at the same time, he didn’t feel ready to flit back to Central Station just yet.

“Also I interrupted your smoke break. I remember now.”

“Eh, not like I don't smoke enough.” Gavin shrugged, glancing out the window all the same, as if remembering that himself. “Shit, guess you put some sort of excitement into my night with that mess.”

Where else could he have gone?

Trying to lighten the mood, and not dwell on the painful reality of _nowhere_ , he half-smiled. “And if I hadn’t? How do you normally spend your off nights, Detective?”

“How do you think? Answerin’ to Colby's every beck and call, the brat. There's always somethin’ new he wants.” Gavin made his way over to the other end of his couch, flopping down onto it with a sigh. “So, lots of fuckin’ fun, obviously.”

Did he adopt this cat, or marry it?

Looking at his gruff, wholly-unamused expression, Noah stifled a laugh. What little free time he had seemed better spent compared to the likes of that. “Then taking care of me must be a breeze in comparison.”

“At least you don't yowl for me to come do shit for you in the middle of the night.” Gavin sulked, rolling his eyes as he recounted past nights spent with his cat. “But seriously… you gonna be all right? I know that'll heal, but mentally, you gonna be okay? For a bit, at least?”

Yet another unspoken question popped up, trying to emulate an answer:

Why wouldn’t he be?

Vernon was undoubtedly being reprimanded for his error already. Emilia was probably criticizing herself for not making sure he understood just what they would be doing. That was all Noah needed to know. This wouldn’t be repeated anytime soon.

“For a bit, yes,” he repeated, even as scratching at the front door sounded off. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to… stay a while. Just to make sure this holds.”

“Sure. You can actually see what a bastard of a cat I have, in person.” Standing back up, Gavin shot daggers at the door, before giving up with a sigh, taking a few steps toward it. “‘Course he comes back now, right on fuckin’ time.”

…Was it?

Scoffing one last time at his own neurotic thoughts, Noah waited until the door opened before pointing out: “Technically I’ve already met him twice before.”

“Yeah, but you ain't really met him until you've spent more than ten minutes with him.” Gavin came back into the living room, having picked Colby up in his arms, holding the cat like he was baby. He was even swinging his arms back and forth, as if rocking the cat. “Lazy bastard. Doesn't even wanna walk anymore.”

_Except when he does._

Noah declined to mention it didn’t seem like Reed was suffering any lower back pain for it. “Hello, Colby.”

Draped as he was against his owner’s elbow, the feline gave a slow, unimpressed blink before kneading a claws-out paw into the hoodie’s sleeve.

“Fuckin’ _ouch,_ Colby.” Gavin huffed out, before trying to dump the cat out of his arms, onto the back of the couch, best he could. “Okay. Okay - go. Colby. Go.”

Bounding across the cushions, the newly-freed cat virtually pranced over to sit in the open halfway point between man and android. Glancing between them, he seemed to defer to neither in favor of lifting a paw, licking fastidiously before rubbing it over an ear.

Watching him, Noah was helpfully reminded of how he still looked like he lost a fight with a tornado. And besides the string, small plastic combs were standard issue among his series.

“He’s thinking how I ought to be.” Murmuring as much to himself, he plucked said comb out of the lapel and went to work.

Sitting back down, Gavin didn't interrupt Colby by trying to pet him, momentarily content to relax there and watch the two of them. “You gonna sleep, in a bit? No offense, but you look like shit. Could probably use some sort of nap.”

The comb snagged into a snarl at that exact moment. Frowning over his wrist, Noah temporarily unhooked it. “I won’t require stasis for another seven hours, minimum.”

Bouts of recharge weren’t that dissimilar to human sleep. And among other improvements made to the RK900 model was an extended effective runtime. He and his (estranged) partners could operate two to three days at a time.

“Yeah, you won't _require_ it. Doesn't stop people from fuckin’ doing it anyways, Noah.” Gavin raised an eyebrow at him, finally hovering his hand by Colby, giving the grooming cat one rub by his ear. “You want a nap, or what?”

Not particularly.

But if it freed Gavin up to do whatever menial chores he meant to see to, run errands or some such, consolidating his energy in the meanwhile might not be totally unadvisable.

Looking again at the comb in his hand, Noah resumed brushing. “After I finish my first task, Detective, thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Push Colby off the couch if he annoys you. No promises he won't climb back on, though.”

Taming the majority of his once-lost hairdo within a few expert pulls, minus three stubborn snags, Noah used the finer-toothed end to fish out a portion of his outgrown bangs. It always tended to spring out and lay there, like it was wired to an invisible and irremovable tether. But like it or not, it was part and parcel of his normal affected appearance.

Versus a wild thing like Colby: push him away if he was proving annoying?

Redundant instruction.

_He can’t be worse than Vernon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temporary fix was temporary.

_The first assembly went awry._

_One whisk of a soldering laser later, and he’s on the floor. That is, the part of him that processes what he is. There was a malfunction with the station. A gear failed. A joint in the arm fell. Like a misfiring gout of fire, burning several thousand kelvins and honed to a pencil-thin point, the once-infallible tool becomes a terrible instrument of destruction._

_It slices into and past his casing, right through his endoskeletal frame, like a hot knife through butter. Passing diagonally as it falls, it cuts from throat to torso to opposite hip. From there, the arm yaws, laser carving a trail along a nearby wall, opening it up as easily as it did the hapless prototype. The bay catches fire before the autoextinguish system can react. There’s just enough exposed circuitry, enough oxygen trapped in the pressurized, dust-free environment._

_With his optics already online, he watches as the infrastructure beyond the wall implodes. A backdraft of sparking fire barrels toward him like an impossible infernal tsunami._

_Lying there severed, he can’t even move to -_

——-

The first sign that something was _very_ fucking wrong, more so than before, was the fact the front door of Gavin's apartment was wide open. Not that he lived in a particularly rough neighbourhood, but you don't leave your door wide open anywhere in this city.

Especially when there was supposed to be someone sleeping on his couch inside.

Gavin grit his teeth as he walked in, semi-cautiously, shifting the one grocery bag he had to be resting on his hip, looking around for any signs of trouble.

“Uh… hello?” he called out, setting the bag down on the couch, which was very vacant - except for Colby, chilling on the backrest. Fucker didn't even looked fazed by whatever this turn of events was. His tailtip twitched back and forth, ears perking up at his owner’s voice, undisturbed. “Noah? Fuck… where did you go?”

No answer. Not that he expected one, but the front door open - did Noah up and leave, in such a hurry? Why would he do that?

He would have remembered to close it.

Something on his floor caught Gavin's ey after a stumped moment, making him curse under his breath when he realized what it was. Fucking thirium on his floor, meaning it was fresh enough to not disappear. _Noah_ ’s thirium, making some sort of trail.

Toward his window. The one with the fire escape - Jesus Christ, did the bastard actually go out that way? Trying to escape, or some shit? Gavin rushed to it, fucking praying that Noah hadn't left yet, going somewhere that he would have no idea where, or why.

Looking out of it, Gavin felt a rush of relief, and then some concern (that he probably wouldn't admit to) at the curled up ball with oversized bird wings clinging onto his fire escape for dear life, or some shit.

“Aw, Jesus… hey, dude?” Swinging one leg out, like before, he didn't really expect an answer. The android was probably back on his autopilot mode, or something like it. “I'm - comin’ out. Don't get spooked.”

More so than he already, clearly was. Noah wasn’t given to fits of panic, much less huddling like he was trying to hide. Recent episode notwithstanding, fear wasn’t in his personal repertoire.

This time, the moment the fire escape gave a worrying creak underfoot, a wing shifted aside. Holding flush against the metal bars, Noah dared a petrified look back over his shoulder.

Weirder still, he appeared to try and speak normally, keeping a grip on reality by the edges of his false fingernails.

“De-Detective, he… h-hello.”

“Hey, Noah.” Gavin swung his other leg out, stepping out onto the fire escape, one hand still gripping the windowsill. Keeping his distance right now felt like the safest thing for both of them. “You, uh… what happened? How's your neck?”

Bleeding again - would be the short answer. The off-white bandages still stuck out over the blue edge of the collar. From the left, he couldn’t see the stains. But he could hear a steady drip, plus the very small drops hitting the step beside the android’s knee. His hands stayed clasped around the guide bar.

His grip was so tight, the skin of his knuckles had thinned down to bare plastic.

Blinking harshly, rallying in vain to provide an answer, Noah appeared to try and throw off the shock. He forced a cough. “ _Ahem_. It’s… i-it’s fi-fiNe.”

“Okay, ugh… shit. Don't talk too much.” Gavin inched a bit closer, hands going up slightly on the automatic - the way they had with Kee, trying to calm Noah down. “Yeah, gonna need to fix that up again. You… you gonna come inside? Or you wanna stay out here?”

If he could at least get Noah inside, maybe he could get just what the hell happened out of the android. Same as last time. Was that really only a few hours ago?

Noah was compliant about it before.

At the suggestion he seemed to hunch deeper into himself, eyes darting nervously, but not seeming to find just what he was scared of. On par with the command not to talk, he shook his head, pressing his temple against the cold bar. The red of his LED set the surrounding flesh aglow.

He wasn’t going to move.

Okay, Gavin could try and deal with that - he was a police officer. This wasn't a situation he was totally lost in, thank fuck. He slid down to sit on the fire escape with a sigh, raising an eyebrow at Noah. “Okay, sure. We can hang out here, long as that ain't gonna be life threatenin’ anytime soon.”

Opening his mouth only to cough up static, Noah shook his head again. A series of twitches seemed to ripple through his expression before he clamped down on them with an involuntary whine. In the same instant, the support went out of his wings. Both feathered appendages sagged into a disjointed heap on the steps behind him. Thirium kept dripping off the elbow of his jacket.

Now was a time Gavin wished he knew more about computers. Especially the two-legged variety. How did Anderson deal with his unruly set, day in and day out?

“Shit, uh - Noah, Jesus, what do I do for you?” Gavin winced, edging himself closer, but trying to keep at least a bit of distance between them - who knew just what would startle him? An unruly android could be as dangerous as a kicking horse. “I can do that bandage up for you again, if you want.”

Craning his head back, Noah let go of the bar long enough to tug at the loose gauze, seemingly just to see if it had gone slack.

The wound underneath sparked and fizzled, unhappy with being prodded. Flinching, he let go to grab the step. The sudden jerk of his shoulders was every indicator that it was hurting.

Waiting for the worst to pass, his brow knitted. “N-no.”

“Uhm… sure. If you say so.” Gavin shrugged, keeping his place on the fire escape, no closer, but no further away. “So… what's got you riled up, Noah?”

Now there was a loaded question. And not one that could be easily sufficed with single-worded answers.

The autopilot feature had evidently been enough to get him out the window, but not into the air. The deathgrip on the bars was as much an anchor as it was keeping him from lashing out in a panic.

As for the cause, the last Gavin had seen him, Noah had been ‘dozing’ peacefully on the couch. Seated upright, but in stasis, there hadn’t been any outward signs of distress. The LED had been a dull, slow-spinning blue.

Flip side of the coin - to come back to this.

Jaw working once, Noah coughed again. The word he choked out wasn’t the one Reed expected: “Cut.”

Yes, that followed. A nearly-cut throat would make anyone uncomfortable. Androids couldn’t do stitches like humans did.

“The… cut on your neck? Yeah, I get that, it's just…” Trailing off, Gavin frowned as he thought of what to say. Really, he didn't have any say on that shit - dude got his throat cut. “Nothin’ else? Anything else?”

Looking only all the more frustrated with his lack of a voice, Noah’s attention seemed to shift. His once-pale irises went a few shades darker.

Crap. That wasn’t the look-through-clothes filter his optics were resetting to?

A high chime went off from the hoodie’s left pocket.

“Ugh… uh, is that - you?” Gavin asked, even as he was pulling it out to check. If it wasn't, he was just about ready to fling it off the fucking fire escape.

Placing a hand over his leaking wound, Noah raised an eyebrow.

_Um, duh?_

Even half mute, he wasn’t without his sardonic attitude.

“Okay, fucker, I'm gettin’ it…” Gavin muttered, rolling his eyes in turn, even as he grabbed his phone and held it up to his ear. “Hello?”

Sounding like it was the reverb of a voice being funneled through a crummy two-channel speaker, Noah answered:

_“Hello, back. I’m sorry for the fright, Detective. I’m not… all here, at the moment.”_

“Don't worry about it, I can see that.” Gavin dismissed him with his free hand, pushing his knee up to balance his elbow on it. “How're you past that, though? What got you like this, the cut?”

_“I haven’t excised the stress yet. It isn’t so much the cut, it’s what it… reminds me of.”_

Like a veritable separate entity from the phone, Noah blinked, twitched, and coughed up more static. The stain around his collar spread. It served to refresh the half-faded mark from the first bout of bleeding.

_“You weren’t far off when you said it was a… post traumatic reaction.”_

“Of what? I mean, bein’ cut - you crashed that one time, but you didn't get a cut like that. And falling through the floor, with Kee, that shit didn't seem to scare you all that much. What other thing happened?”

Maybe the bombardment of reminders was a little overkill. But it did put the matter in perspective. Noah liked to have information at his disposal, however bad the news was. He hated proverbial unknowns as much as Connor did, if not more.

Mulling his response over, he blinked a slower, more methodical blink. His red LED brightened to an almost-orange hue. The brightness in his eyes resurfaced.

_“An… industrial accident. I didn’t think they had, but… CyberLife didn’t scrub the memory from my drives. It’s a rather embarrassing fluke. I don’t see why they wouldn’t. But… I’m iteration -89. An earlier version, -86, was… scrapped, after a malfunctioning assembly station sliced it in half.”_

Gavin winced at the description, even one as basic and without the gory details as that. Being cut in half, and still being alive with that shit - he couldn't even imagine that. It was scary enough getting shot, or seeing what getting impaled on rebar did.

“Fuck, that's insane. Shitty fuckin’ CyberLife. Yeah, I can definitely see how you'd get some PTSD from that.”

Noah sighed through the phone and delivered the punchline, even as his face stayed impassive. _“And then the bay blew up.”_

Like he said - embarrassing.

For CyberLife, anyway.

“Blew up, with you in it…” Gavin hissed at the thought of that, the helplessness of not being able to do anything when that happened, just being stuck, half dead already, no chance of getting away. To say it wasn't a pleasant thought was a fucking understatement. “Fuck, that's awful. Did you - have a nightmare about this, that sort of thing?”

_“A recollection, yes. Androids don’t have nightmares.”_

Just as they didn’t sleep, but stasis mode was very much like a standby state for them to enter when their energy waned.

“I won't argue words with you right now,” Gavin muttered, still keeping an eye on Noah. Who knew if there was anything else that could randomly fucking trigger something like this? Especially with such memories he didn't know about before. “But okay, kinda like that same shit. And then you came out here, on autopilot again?”

 _“Why I grabbed onto this.”_ Flexing his fingers for emphasis, the android shut his eyes again. _“It’s like some… quasi state between a waking coma and sleepwalking. I didn’t need to run again. I knew what was happening as soon as my optics opened.”_

It explained the open front door. Noah must have backpedalled the instant he realized what was happening. He selected an alternate route and went for it.

Trippy - to think that one’s body could do things of it’s own accord while attuned to a different wavelength, and the mind was helpless to stop it. That difference was all the more evident in a machine versus something organic.

_“Your apartment isn’t rigged to explode. The systems’ glitches just have my motor functions believing it is.”_

“Oh. Okay.” What else could Gavin say? There wasn't anything he could do to make this better right now, not when there wasn't anything that could cause a fire in his apartment, not when he couldn't just fucking take a memory away. “Guess we'll be hangin’ out here for awhile.”

Noah’s eyes reopened. The active call screen on the phone dimmed, then went dark.

“Not… ne-necessarily.”

Didn’t he just finish explaining how he didn’t have any grasp of mobility left?

“Uh… listen, maybe I'm not connectin’ some dots here, but I thought you just said you can't go inside, Noah.” Gavin shook his head, before gesturing to the open window. “Unless you're gonna go try and crawl inside, which - don't.”

“I di-didn’t - _ahem_ \- I didn’t intend to.” Gingerly uncurling his fingers again, he unhooked one hand from around the bar. “I’m just - regaining control.”

Painfully slowly. One cable at a time.

But at least he was managing.

“Okay, we can wait for that.” Gavin crossed his arms, resting his head back on the outside wall of his apartment, close enough to do so. “Thank fuck I don't gotta work today.”

Reminded of just how he was encroaching on his partner’s free time, Noah averted his eyes. The bleeding under the gauze finally seemed to slow and stop. “But… the station will be wondering where I am. Once this has been patched, I really should - report back for repairs.”

“Fuck that, dude. I mean, I guess if you really want to, but don't force yourself to go back there.” Not after whatever had just happened - this whole affair was started by Vernon anyways, right? Who knew if he would be there or not, or if anything else would remind Noah of memories better left alone. It was just safer in general, it felt like, for him to stay here for now.

The sheepishness vanished, replaced by a strange kind of affectionate irritation. “If that’s an _order_ , Detective…”

Panderer.

“Eh, sure. Fuckin’ order, Noah, stay on this goddamn fire escape with me for awhile.”

“Affirmative.” Mollified, his visitor finally designed to pick his wings back up, extending one forward for a look. “These will need some attention before I go anywhere.” Carefully, like he was undoing a fishhook, he pried his other hand free, flexing and clenching the fingers. The joints popped like cracking peanut shells. “Make that, a few things.”

Well, sorry, Tin Man, but oil for the joints is not on the service menu.

“Do what you have to, I ain't gonna be any help with that shit.” Gavin waved a hand at Noah, before leaning back up against the wall. Even if the android asked, he would most likely make some fucking disaster, trying to help him get into a functional state again - best he did it himself.

The best Reed could do was provide a safe place for him to do so. No pressure, no strings.

 _Mi casa es su casa_ , man.

Meanwhile, he would be free to think on just what salty piece of mind he was going to forcefeed Vernon, next they reported for duty. That guy had it coming.


End file.
